


Shattered

by LavenderMochi



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Angst, relationships are mostly implied, stroke, stroke recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 05:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderMochi/pseuds/LavenderMochi
Summary: When Logan experiences a life-threatening event, how do the others deal with it? How will they cope with their emotions and situations as they begin the long road to recovery? No character death.





	Shattered

No one saw it coming. Not really.

It was ironic, actually. Logan should've been the one to catch on, out of all the Sides. It must've slipped passed him—somehow—the sudden weakness in his arm, the sudden slur in his speech, the headache that felt like something was crushing his brain. Logan just assumed he was having a bad day and as far as he knew, everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.

It must've been minutes later that Logan found himself unable to stand up because everything in his field of vision was _spinning_. It felt like he was on a never-ending roller coaster. Or like he was seeing the world through lenses made out of water.

It was at that moment Logan knew something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Trying to process the situation was a struggle. It was as if his thinking had grown sluggish, and not only sluggish, but also rather absurd as he kept on coming up with the most random explanations for the situation. It must've been something he ate. He must've not gotten enough sleep last night. He must've forgotten to brush his teeth.

The headache was prominent. He felt like throwing up his insides. And everything else felt so numb as if he had swallowed lidocaine straight.

 _This must be death_ , Logan's disillusion mind thought.

That was the last coherent thought he had before he lost consciousness.

\---

Roman was no stranger to Virgil. In fact, one might even say he was quite fond of the anxious Side and he even frequently spent time with him. Roman was very well tuned into Virgil's habit of getting worked up over every single thing, especially the small things.

It was a quiet morning—around eleven-ish, because Roman was never on track with his sleep schedule—when Roman woke up. The sun was pouring into his room and, by the looks of it, the day was going to be bright, figuratively and literally. Roman turned his head to the side and was taken by surprise for a moment when he saw Virgil. But it wasn't because Virgil was there—it was a usual occurrence for Virgil to sleep in Roman's room—but because he was usually the last person up. And now, he was _awake_.

And the next thing Roman noticed was this strong surge of tension in the room. It was almost _suffocating_. It took Roman less than a second to see that it was because of Virgil, who looked to be the most on-edge he had been for a while. Out of concern, Roman nudged him and Virgil jumped.

"Hey, 'morning," said Roman, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, Roman," Virgil's voice sounded tense and his posture even more so. "I don't know. I- I just woke up with a terrible feeling in my gut, like something was seriously wrong. So I'm freaking out because I don't know why."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Roman asked.

"I- I don't know. I didn't want to bother you. It's probably nothing anyway." Virgil took in a deep breath. "Maybe just me. Overreacting to nothing."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's nothing."

Virgil, however, growled in frustration, combing his shaking hands through his hair.

"I don't know, Roman. I've never felt so horribly...terrible before," he said, looking to Roman with eyes wide with uncertainty, "No, something is definitely not right. Could it be one of the Sides? How do you feel?"

"I feel...fine," Roman said with a small shrug, "Maybe leaning more towards 'meh' than 'awesome,' but fine."

"Huh, okay." Virgil's nose crinkled, "I have to check on the others." Checking on the others, Roman knew, also meant everything else in the house. "Coming or no?"

"Well, do I look flawless enough to show my face?"

Virgil smirked, reaching across the bed and ruffling Roman's hair, "Yeah. Now you do."

Roman gasped, in a pitchy sort of way the Sides liked to call the offended princey noise, but followed Virgil as he hopped out of bed and out of the room.

Virgil was like a hound, prowling the apartment for the source of his heightened sense of anxiety. Roman tailed him obediently. Virgil checked the front door first, then the kitchen, then all the closets, then the bathrooms, where he made sure to check behind the shower curtains. Twice.

After having the comfort that his anxiety didn't rest with unlocked doors or ninjas behind the shower curtains, Virgil turned his focus to the other Sides. He stopped at Patton's room door. And knocked.

\---

Patton was in the middle of reading when he heard a knock on his door. Patton hardly ever read, but Logan had so excitedly asked him to read it, stars in his eyes and all. Logan had the sharpest eyes of all the Sides and it was a trait Patton adored. Naturally, he couldn't resist when Logan shoved the book in his hands.

The knocking startled him a little, as one would be, being too caught in the story. Patton adjusted the cardigan over his shoulders. It wasn't like his cardigan needed adjusting, if ever, but it was just a habit of Patton's. It was like clearing the throat before speaking or rolling up sleeves before doing the dishes.

Gently, Patton laid the pages flat on the table and kicked down his feet from his old leather recliner. He opened the door only to see Virgil and Roman standing there awkwardly. Instantly, Patton felt a warm fuzzy feeling take him over.

"'Mornin', kiddos!" Patton said with a grin.

His eyes drifted to Virgil. And Virgil, to say the least, was not looking as peppy as anxiety could be. Even by just looking at Virgil, Patton felt a wave of nervousness seep into his mind.

"What's up, Virge?" Patton frowned slightly, a pang in his chest telling him there was something off about this whole thing. "Is there something...wrong?"

"Virgil's levels of anxiety are more hyperactive this morning," Roman explained before Virgil could start. "He's worried something's wrong, so he's checking up on everyone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. What he said," Virgil mumbled.

"I think so," Patton said, touching his face and chest just to make sure. "Yep, still in one piece. Have you seen Logan yet?"

"Nope," Virgil said, "Haven't seen him all morning."

"He might be in his room. He was since last night, I think," Patton said, "He was working on something and he seemed pretty stressed about it."

"Well, we're going now," Roman said, "Coming?"

"Sure."

Patton stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. Virgil spun on his heel and was the first to speed to Logan's room. Which wasn't far, it was just five steps down the hall from Patton's room. Virgil knocked on the door, just as he had done on Patton's.

No response.

Patton's shoulders dropped.

Virgil knocked again. But it was unusual. Logan was known to be very keen. He would've come to the door by now, even if he had been sleeping three seconds earlier.

With a strange sense of new-found desperation, Patton squeezed in between Virgil and Roman, turned the knob of the door, and kicked the door open none too gently.

Patton's blood ran cold when he walked into the room and saw Logan on the floor, unconscious.

After that, everything shattered into chaos.

\---

Waiting in the waiting room for twelve hours was, by far, the most nerve-wracking and devastating twelve hours Patton had ever experienced in his life. Just sitting there in the waiting room and twiddling his thumbs, waiting and waiting until news showed up, good or bad.

It had been a CVA. A stroke. Affecting the left side of the brain. That's what they said.

Logan's blood pressure was high, they said, One-forty over...eighty? Ninety? Well, Patton couldn't remember what they said. He could only focus on the feeling in his stomach, like he had just been punched.

It was a lot of crying. Patton cried the first day until his eyes were so swollen, he could barely see through his lashes. When he finally got to see Logan, asleep, alive—despite being told there was a big chance he wouldn't make it—Patton cried again by his bedside. He spent the next couple of days in the hospital, waiting some more by Logan's side.

Logan would open his eyes at times. The nurses would talk to him then, slowly walking him through what happened and the procedures for recovery. Once the nurses left, Patton would gush—he'd try to talk, but all that came were tears. Virgil and Roman also exchanged sparse words, at loss on what to say.

Logan wouldn't talk, he would only stare as if he _did_ have something to say, but he kept it to himself. The nurses did warn that a stroke would do that, that Logan would probably have trouble with talking, among other things. But it didn't matter because Patton could read his mind. He knew what Logan would say.

' _Ugh, feelings_.'

Patton could see it in Logan's eyes; They still held the same calculating gleam that Patton knew and loved. Patton held on to that.

\---

It was a long week.

The whole first week, the nurses were on Logan to help him recover. They gave him exercises for his right-side paralysis. They gave him exercises for his speaking. They put him on blood thinners and a special kind of medicine for hypertension. Logan was more responsive, both to the recovery and in general, than they expected him to be. Throughout the whole thing, Patton refused to leave his side, as did Roman and Virgil.

One night, Patton was alone with Logan. Logan wasn't sleeping for once, but Patton had nothing to say, really. Or he had too much to say. Whatever the truth was, Patton watched Logan instead as Logan did his assigned exercises. He used his good hand to close the fingers of his other hand. And then uncurled them. And then did it again. And again. And tried to do it without his other hand. Holding the fist for ten seconds and then releasing with struggle, but succeeding. Patton found this interesting—not the exercise, but rather Logan's focus and determination. That was always something Patton admired about him, too.

Patton must've zoned out at one point because the next time he blinked, Logan was not doing his hand exercises and instead looking at him. His brows were knitted in focus and his eyes full of fire as he looked to Patton. Patton blinked, wondering if Logan was expecting him to say something.

"Mmm..." Logan hummed, lips curved down, not quite in a complete frown, but Patton could tell he was trying. "Mmaannen. Mmaappen."

Patton tilted his head, "Logan? What is it?"

Logan let out a small huff and repeated, "Puh- enn."

"Huh?"

"Paappen."

Logan pointed, with his good arm, to Patton. Patton stared at the finger for a good second. Then he smiled, looking to Logan.

"'Patton?' Is that what you're trying to say?"

Logan would've beamed, if he could. Instead, he had this dazzling gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. And Patton couldn't stop smiling.

\---

The next week, Logan was able to go home.

The most important thing, they said, was that Logan continued to go through with the rehab. That was fine—Logan understood that—but the difficult part about it was that he was so insistent on doing everything himself, at first. Sure, Logan likely knew more about stroke rehab than the rest, but he had a hard time actually recalling what the stroke rehab _was_.

So, Patton forcefully took things into his own hands, vowing to do his best to care for Logan, and coordinating his day like so; Wake up, help Logan prepare for the day, help him eat, help him with his exercises, practice speaking with him, practice reading and writing, practice mathematics, practice his memory. All of that stuff.

The first few days were rocky.

On top of that, Virgil wasn't faring very well. There was some kind of guilt plaguing him about the whole thing, which Patton pitied him for because that guilt wasn't justified.

"I should've known," Virgil said, shoulders drooped and head in his hands, "It's my fault I didn't check on Logan sooner. The stroke was my fault. If only I kept a closer eye on his stress."

No force in the world could convince Virgil otherwise, and unfortunately, Patton couldn't help him either, as his hands were full being Logan's temporary full-time caretaker.

It was definitely sad. But Patton wanted to see it with optimism. Logan was going to get better in no time and, in the end, seeing Logan's sharpness come back to him will have been worth it.

\---

Six o'clock. No matter what, even despite the stroke, Logan still woke up at six o'clock. It was quiet at six in the morning, a peaceful time and Patton, despite having a preference for waking up at a later time, enjoyed these small moments. It would just be him and Logan, as Virgil and Roman were still asleep, as per usual. Well, Roman would _sometimes_ be there, but Patton couldn't blame him if he wasn't. Roman was the only one picking up after Patton if Patton forgot anything and even helped out with Logan every once in a while. It was no wonder he was always tired.

Anyway, it was six o'clock, and Patton woke up to the usual quietness that permeated Logan's room. Nowadays, he just slept in Logan's room on a rather comfortable chair, because that was just easier. Outside was still dim, but hints of sun peeked through the trees from time to time and shimmered warmly in the room. Patton got up with a small yawn and at the same time, grabbed his glasses from the nearby nightstand. Logan was already awake, but he hadn't noticed Patton yet. Patton noticed Logan, though. Patton was briefly enraptured, in a way that made his heart flutter, by the way the light shone on Logan's delicate features. The way the sun rosied his skin and made his hair and lashes almost golden.

Patton nudged him gently, and Logan quickly flicked his attention to Patton; He wasn't surprised, but Patton could tell he had snapped him out of his own head.

"Hey. 'Mornin', Logan," Patton said, smiling.

"Guhn mormin, Pappen."

"Okay, are you feeling well?" Patton said.

"Nenuhph." Logan said with a small, one-sided shrug.

Patton helped Logan up and then into a wheelchair that was next to the bedside. Easily, Patton rolled Logan from his bedroom to the dining room. While he started on breakfast, Logan kept busy by doing his exercises or trying to start on the puzzle section of the morning paper.

From the kitchen, Patton asked, "Logan, would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Eh splese."

Patton happily pressed 'brew' on the coffee machine. Whilst he waited, he began on scrambled eggs and some soft buttered bread—he wasn't much of a cook, but he was enough. After the eggs and bread were done, he set them in front of Logan along with a good ol' cup of joe and sat across from him with his own cup. One of the things Logan had little trouble with was eating, as long as he took small bites. Patton was just there in case he needed anything.

Which is why it was odd when Logan just stared at the food in front of him. The look on his face was a little weird, too, like a mixture of thought and confusion. Then, Logan looked up, pointing at the plate.

"Do you need something, Logan?" Patton asked. More worried, he added, "Is there something _wrong_?"

Logan shook his head slowly, "Neen...somemin..."

Patton un-tensed a little, "What do you need?"

Logan, for the longest time, just stared at the plate, a stern frown on his lips. Patton, while he waited for Logan's response, ran through his head the list of things Logan could need at that moment. More coffee? Creamer? Extra eggs?

Finally, Logan made a sound of frustration and pointed once more to the plate, as if he was trying to show something to Patton. Patton could tell Logan was trying very hard and it was during moments like these that Patton felt bad that he couldn't understand what Logan was trying to refer to.

"What is it?"

"Don'd mememmer," Logan said curtly, "Don'd mememmer deh name. Id was...id was..."

He pointed to the bread on the plate, then angrily shoved it away, almost sending it flying off the edge of the table. He slammed his hand on the table and Patton jumped in surprise.

"I know whad id is, bud I can'd mememmer!" Logan exclaimed.

Logan collapsed on the table in a fit anger, his eyes wet with the beginnings of tears. It was the most unusual and concerning thing for Patton to ever witness, and certainly one of the most terrifying. Logan _never_ acted out, but now he was blinded by a seething rage, for almost no reason at all. Patton didn't care when his chair screeched as he shoved it away from the table or when he knocked over his coffee. He rushed to Logan's side and tried his best to do something—calm him down, comfort him, something.

But even before Patton could assess what the heck was actually happening—no more than a minute—Logan stopped his sudden outburst, just like that. He took several deep breaths and sat himself up like nothing had even happened. Patton, to say the _least_ , was completely gobsmacked.

While he crouched beside Logan in complete loss of words, Logan turned to look at him with an expectant expression.

It took Patton a good five seconds before he finally sputtered, "L...Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Logan gave him look, "Mm-hm...?"

"Oh." Patton took a step back, adjusting his cardigan and taking a breath, "A-Are you sure? Because you just..."

Logan blinked. Patton made a motion with his hands to try to describe it, pointlessly motioning to the table, but he, no doubt, only achieved looking like a complete buffoon. Logan, however, seemed to know exactly what this meant. With a sad 'oh,' he lowered his head and his cheeks grew red with what Patton could only identify as embarrassment.

"Suedo-bahber affecd," Logan said in a low voice, "Apopa-geez, Pappen. Id's when...deh blain...espeliences daumadic damage and...affecds emomion and...bobily lespopse-"

"Hey, hey," Patton said with a small shush. He brushed Logan's stubborn hair away from his forehead. "It's okay. You don't have to feel bad or explain anything. Are you okay?"

Logan sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, "Mm-hm."

Patton breathed in relief, "Good."

Logan turned his eyes to the mess on the table. Patton let out another sigh.

"I'll clean it, don't worry," he said as he grabbed his fallen cup of coffee and left to get paper towels from the kitchen.

But, before Patton could go take care of the mess he made, Logan exclaimed. Patton turned around and was met with a strange image of Logan excitedly holding up a buttered piece of bread. The sparkle in his eyes was something.

"Pappen...I mememmer!" Logan said. Ironically, he looked more on the verge of tears than happiness, which Patton found strange but dismissed. Logan waved the bread again, "Id was sam! K...Keh...Cehlofdes. Cehlofedeh's! Dad was id!"

"Ceh- Kuh- huh?" Patton furrowed his brows in confusion.

Logan's eyes darted around as he tried to look for other words to add to clear up Patton's confusion. Then, his eyes sparkled again.

"Dee nonly selly...I pud in my pelly!" Logan said.

To this, Patton could feel his face hurt from the oncoming smile. Inside, he felt so fuzzy and warm.

"Crofter's!" Patton exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

At that very moment, Logan lopsided smile meant the world to Patton.

\---

Simply put, Virgil was a wreck.

The week had barely started and it felt like the slowest week in the world. It was almost like he was stuck in this never-ending loop of feeling horrible. It was hard to describe in words just exactly how Virgil felt—though he wasn't physically sick, his insides felt like it. Sickened with this intense, persistent feeling of guilt.

Virgil spent most of the time in his room and didn't do much. It was easier that way. He didn't want to be a bother to any of the Sides because anxiety was the last thing they needed. And it gave him time to think things through, or contrarily, not think at all.

Virgil was never calm anymore. Most nights, he couldn't sleep. On particularly bad days, he went through bouts of panic attacks. Virgil wanted to say he had it bad, but how could he when Logan was suffering the worst of it?

The only person who provided any kind of consolation was Roman. Well, Patton did, too, during the times when he wasn't busy. Which was never. And Virgil was fine with that. But that meant Roman was the one Virgil looked to for comfort, and he was fine with that, too. Even before, Roman was somewhat of an anchor for Virgil, maybe because they were already sort of an item. And maybe because the imaginary world of Roman gave him a place to escape for a little while. Where things were better. Happier.

Even so, Virgil didn't like to bother Roman, so he only went to Roman when he really needed help. That was more often than Virgil liked. But some days it was too hard to cope, too hard to endure the buildup of anxiety which swelled up in his chest. Tonight was one of those nights.

Virgil woke up in a fit of panic, jolting upright with a tight grip on the comforter of his bed. His breath was heavy as his heart pounded quickly, and his throat was tight on the verge of crying out. Virgil huffed out a couple frenzied breaths and brought his shaking hand to his damp forehead.

It was only a dream. Well, rather, a flashback.

Logan writhing on the floor. His eyes dull and unresponsive. The muffled cries of worried voices and the world spinning in slow motion.

All just a stupid flashback.

Virgil gripped his hair. It was all his fault.

If only, if only, if only. All the if onlys ran through his head, like thinking about it gave him the power to go back in time to change it. But no. He could do nothing. Nothing. All he could do was count the hours before the days were over and hope everything would somehow just go away.

But try as he might, that flashback, that _stupid_ flashback, was something he just couldn't make go away.

Poor Logan. Poor Patton. It was all his fault, wasn't it?

Virgil checked the time—it was a little passed midnight. That meant Roman was, likely, still awake. Good, he needed an escape. There was too much thinking going on in his head. It was beginning to make him feel overwhelmingly antsy.

Virgil flung the covers off of his bed and quietly made his way out the door and down the hall. His feet blindly took him through the darkness until he was here he finally wanted to be. Maybe. Maybe not.

He stood in front of Roman's door for a moment. He was hesitant, as with all things, about knocking. Maybe, but then again, maybe not. Virgil took a long time to contemplate in the hallway before ultimately deciding to do so. He knocked on the door twice, softly. And held his breath. If Roman didn't open the door, he wouldn't try again. Two seconds passed. Then three. Then four. Virgil spun on his heel and began to hurry back to his room. That was a bad idea. He shouldn't have knocked.

Behind him, the door creaked open gently and light began to flood the hallway. Virgil glanced over his shoulder, his eyes catching the silhouette of the prince-clad Sanders Side.

"Virge?"

Virgil breathed.

"Roman."

Virgil didn't really think when he spun back around and ran into Roman's not-so readily opened arms. Yeah, the awkwardness was going to bother him for, like, a week. But nothing felt better at that moment than Roman's warmth and his steady hands. An anchor to Virgil's boat traveling through turbulent waters.

"Virgil...!" Roman said, his voice hushed, "Are you- Oh, sweet Crofters, you're shaking so much."

Roman led him into his room and sat him down somewhere. Virgil didn't pay much attention, maybe the bed. All the bad feelings were beginning to unwind, slowly, the more he immersed himself in the essence of Roman's room. Seemingly sensing this, Roman gripped him tighter and let Virgil hide himself in his chest.

"Virge, what's- what are you- do you want to talk about-"

Muffled by Roman's chest, Virgil said quickly, "I don't. It's fine. This is fine."

"Okay, okay. It's okay. I'm here, breathe," Roman said, soothingly, in a way that surprisingly worked. Roman kissed the top of Virgil's head. "It's okay, Virge."

The bad feelings kept on unwinding.

"Can I? May I? Is it alright if I?" Virgil began to ask. But, no, that would be asking too much. Maybe. Maybe not.

"What?"

"Stay here. For the night?" Virgil asked in what was barely a coherent sentence. That was stupid. Dumping all of this on Roman. As if he needed more stress on top of everything else.

Even so, without missing a beat, Roman replied, "Yes, yes. Of course."

Again, Virgil wasn't paying much attention, but soon he was wrapped up in soft blankets, cuddled into a pillow, and hugged by strong arms. He felt safe. He felt secure.

For once in a long time.

\---

Days and nights were merged for Roman. Well, nearly. Everyday was a new challenge to take on. With Logan out of commission, it fell on him to make sure everything ran smoothly. On top of that, he had to fill in for Patton, who couldn't do much now that he was caring for Logan. On top of on top of that, there was Virgil—Virgil himself wasn't a problem, but it was just another task for Roman to comfort him if he ever had a problem. And Roman was _exhausted_.

But he didn't complain, even when he wanted to. It was his duty. He _had_ to do it because it couldn't rest on anyone's shoulders but his own. Roman tried to keep optimistic, as much as he could. But some days were harder than others.

It was the evening now. Roman, like most nights, shut himself in his bathroom. Roman tried not making a habit of hiding in the bathroom, but recently it was almost ritualistic. The bathroom was the only place Roman could have time for himself.

So, like most nights, Roman stood in front of the vanity, staring at his sad reflection that was trapped inside the glass. And his eyes swelled up with tears, puffy and red like an overinflated balloon. He fell to his knees onto the bathroom floor, taken over by an outburst of emotion, and wept until he felt a little better and a lot tired. Like most nights.

 _Come on, Roman_ , Roman thought to himself, his face buried in his hands, _How could you be so selfish? You shouldn't be crying. Think of Logan, Patton, and even Virgil. They have it much worse than you do. You're so selfish, crying because you're overwhelmed. Stupid, selfish, stupid._

Roman cried a little bit more, letting out the remaining frustration and exhaustion from his system. When he was sure he didn't need to cry anymore, he got up from the floor and wiped away the tears from his cheeks. He quickly adjusted his disheveled appearance and, sniffling, opened the door from the bathroom to his room. As soon as he took a step inside, he eyes went wide and his body froze. On the bed sat Virgil.

Roman had not expected Virgil to come by. Oh, Crofters, he didn't want Virgil to see him like this. If not for the sake of his pride, than for the sake of Virgil's worry. But it was too late now—Virgil was on Roman's bed. Worried.

Roman didn't know where to start, and for a moment, it looked like neither did Virgil. He suddenly shot up from the bed, frenzied.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Virgil said. In a blink, Virgil was near Roman and Roman could feel the tingling anxiety that followed Virgil like a cloud of smoke. Virgil's hands delicately caressed Roman's cheeks and he spoke softly, "Roman, what's- what's wrong? Why were you crying?"

Ironically, Roman could feel the beginnings of tears brimming on his lashes. There was a sense of guilt eating away at him and a heavy upset in his stomach. One big jumble of emotions.

Roman forced a smile instead and said in a steady voice, "Oh, it's- it's nothing. What are you doing here, Virge?"

Virgil frowned. Gripping Roman by the sleeve, he nodded to the bed. "C'mon."

He pulled Roman from the door and laid him down on top of the bed comforter. Virgil placed himself beside Roman. A tense, trembling arm slung over Roman's chest.

"Why were you crying?"

Roman tried—he _tried—_ to keep his composure. But it seemed like everything was against him, just like the rest of the day.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," spilled out of Roman's mouth and Roman covered his face to conceal his shame. "I don't have a reason for being so upset. I don't...-" Roman sputtered. "I don't have it as bad as any of you. I was overwhelmed, that's all. I'm sorry, I know that's not a very good reason. I should be able to take all these responsibilities without feeling so exhausted all of the time. I _need_ to do it. For Logan and Patton. I'm sorry I was crying."

There was a silence. Then, Virgil spoke.

"Chivalrous as always."

Roman sniffled, uncovering his face and peering to Virgil in heavy confusion. "O-oh?"

"Well, at least you're better than me," Virgil said, almost bitterly, "At least you're trying. At least you're doing your best. For Logan and Patton."

"If you're only saying that because you think it's what I want to hear," Roman sighed, "You'd be right. But you don't have to do that to cheer me up. You don't have to lie."

"Roman." The tone was firm. Roman glanced down to Virgil, surprised to see his glare just as firm. "I'm being serious. You're doing your best. And I don't think anyone thinks it's wrong for you to cry. Everyone has limits, even you. You keep on forgetting that, I think."

Roman tittered, "I do, don't I..."

"Mm-hm." Virgil buried his head into the side of Roman's chest. "You know, Roman, I don't think it matters, really. You know what matters? That we need to care for each other." A pause. "I love you, Roman, you know what? No matter what. My bumbling prince charming."

"Oh, thanks," Roman said, laughing a little.

"Mm-hm."

Virgil pecked a shy kiss on Roman's jaw. Roman, with his free hand, combed the tussled locks of Virgil's hair. It was ironic, Roman considered, that the one previously labeled 'anxiety' helped him feel a little a lot better. At that moment, like many other moments, Roman was thankful for Virgil's presence.

"Hey, Virgil."

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too. I mean, I love all of the Sides. Maybe more now than ever. But I just want you to know. I love you."

"Aww. How gross." Virgil joked—he was half-asleep by now, anyway.

Roman smiled. He loved his creepy cookie.

\---

It wasn't often Patton got all three of the Sides seated for dinner, but it must've been his lucky day. He guessed that Virgil was beginning to feel better and that Roman was taking some time off from doing the endless list of chores. That's good, Patton thought with a smile, the two of them deserved a break.

Patton busied himself with making dinner, which was pasta and creamed spinach—Logan actually liked this dish, which Patton guessed was because of the spinach. Logan loved his vegetables.

Anyway, in the next room over, Patton could hear the three spending time together. Making sure Logan was okay, if he needed help with his exercises, if he wanted clues to help finish the crossword puzzle from yesterday's paper. Hearing all that only made Patton's smile grow wider. They all needed this moment. A time to breathe.

"Dinner's ready!" Patton shouted as soon as he dished the pasta.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Roman rushed into the kitchen and began to gather the utensils and ceramics to set on the table. Patton took the dishes, one in each hand, and carried them into the dining room, sharing a smile with Roman as they brushed shoulders.

"Alrighty, guys and kiddos! Tonight, we have pasta and creamed spinach!" Patton said as he set the food on the table. "Are you hungry?"

" _Yes_ ," Virgil half-whined.

"...ee-es." Logan said, "Issmells nice."

"Thank you," Patton beamed.

"Back." Roman announced.

He handed the plates one by one to Virgil, who passed it down the table until all the spaces were filled. Roman took his seat at the table.

"Well, let's not let the food cool down-"

"Ashully,...consuning foods...or bebrages hot in temberadure...incurses risk ob thermal in-jry...and esohphajeel cancer."

Virgil put on a lopsided grin, gently slapping Logan on the shoulder. "And there's our good ol' Logan."

Logan looked as if he wanted to glare or roll his eyes at first. But he did neither. Instead, he leaned back on his chair and grinned unevenly, as if to say, ' _I know_.'

\---

To wrap up the night, since it was a weekend anyway, the four of them decided to watch a movie. It wasn't too late yet that Logan would fuss about going to bed on time, so even he was on board, even excited, with the idea. Whilst Roman, Virgil, and Logan decided what to put on, Patton hurried to clean up the remnants of dinner.

"How about a good old classic?"

"We've already watched that a _billion_ times, Roman."

"Well, it's a _good_ movie!"

"How about this one?"

"Ugh, a _horror_ movie? You have such predictable taste!"

"Says the one who picked out a _Disney_ movie. Let's just put on what Logan chooses."

"Okay, fine."

From the kitchen, Patton chuckled. It was comforting, in a way, to hear Roman and Virgil argue over what movie to watch. It reminded him of before, how the house would always be so lively. It was usually so quiet, _too_ quiet, as the other two never really spent time out of their rooms anymore. Patton loved it.

"A space documentary?" Patton heard Roman grumble.

"Oh, don't lie, Roman. You love that documentary just as much as Logan does."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I do. But it's hardly a _movie_."

"Just put it on."

"Whatever."

Patton finished loading up the dishwasher and bumped the door shut with his hip, and he wiped his hands dry on a kitchen towel. He made his way to the living room, where Roman was busy putting on the movie and Virgil was helping Logan to the couch. Patton sat beside Logan, who looked to be thinking deeply about something.

"Hey." Patton nudged Logan. Snapping out of it, Logan jumped a little. "Sorry. Are you alright?"

"Oh, mm...Mm-hm," Logan replied, smiling a little. "Pat-ton."

"Yes? What is it, Logan?"

"Thank ee-ou. For...efereething."

Patton blinked. "You're...you're thanking me? For- for what?"

"Efereething. I know...this whole esperience...has been estreemly shressful...on efereeboby," Logan said. "So, thank ee-ou."

"Aw, shucks, Logan. You really don't have to thank us for anything," Patton said, "We do it because we love you so much, Logan. Unconditionally."

"I was thinking of something to add to that, but Patton said it all, really," Roman said.

"Same," said Virgil.

Logan did not look like he was on the verge of tears. In fact, he looked quite happy. Which is why it took everyone by surprise when he suddenly burst into a fit of tears, his face in his hands and his sobbing uncontrollable.

"Woah, woah, woah! Logan, are you okay?" Roman lept up from the couch, prepared for the worst.

"Logan, Logan." Patton tried to calm him down, shushing him softly and rubbing his back. He looked to the others, the on-edge Roman and the shocked Virgil, and he urged them to calm down, too. "Guys- Guys, I think it's fine. I think he's okay."

"Fine? _Fine?_ Logan just burst into tears! That's _not_ fine!" Virgil began to go off.

"No, no," Logan managed to say in-between his sobs, "Issokay. 'M not...upset." Logan looked up from his hands, an attempt of a smile on his face. "I love ee-ou all...s-so mush." Logan opened his arms in request for a hug.

Patton, his eyes wet with tears of joy, dove into Logan's arms. Roman had the biggest smile on his face and he, too, accepted Logan's hug. Virgil followed, his expression calm and content.

At one point in Patton's life, it felt as if everything had gone wrong. Everything had shattered. A sense of happiness, a sense of family. He wasn't sure he could ever recover from almost losing it all. He had been certain he was going to lose Logan and that was definitely the scariest part.

Remembering the bad times made him grateful for the good times. He was grateful at that very moment—even that was putting it lightly—as he hugged Logan and got smushed by the others. It felt to him, that, for once, everything felt close to the happiness Patton knew before. With Logan. With Roman. With Virgil.

And it was then that he knew that everything was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Second Sanders Sides fic! Yay! Thanks for reading!
> 
> If anyone has tips on how to better write a character who experiences a stroke, pseudobulbar affect, or how to write speech after a stroke, feel free to inform me!
> 
> My sources include but are not limited to:
> 
> "Medications." Heart and Stroke Foundation. Web. 1 Apr. 2019.  
> https://www.heartandstroke.ca/stroke/treatments/medications
> 
> "Left Side Stroke." Flint Rehab. 11 Jan 2019. Web. 1 Apr. 2019.  
> https://www.flintrehab.com/2019/left-side-stroke-recovery/
> 
> Staff, Mayo Clinic. "Stroke." Mayo Clinic. 11 June 2019. Web. 1 Apr. 2019.  
> https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/stroke/symptoms-causes/syc-20350113


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